How to Fix a Broken Bat
by Dark Knight HQ
Summary: Batman has helped the entire city of Gotham, even those who don't deserve it. So what happens when the man who saves people, needs saving himself? Just a cute one-shot I thought up, but with a slightly dark beginning.


How to Fix a Broken Bat

 _Author's Note: Okay, I recently did a fanfiction about how Batman is always there for Harley when she needs him - if you haven't already read it check it out, I'm quite proud of it - and I decided that maybe there should be one where Harley helps Batman out instead. Since she was a psychiatrist, this was what I came up with. Enjoy!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Batman franchise._

Bruce had been depressed for months now. He wasn't even sure when it had started, just that one day he woke up feeling like that. For a while, he thought he had it under control - after all, he could keep his emotions hidden from Tim, Dick, Barbara and even Alfred - but then it got much worse.

He didn't know how he got to the top of the building.

But there he stood, staring down at the dark streets that lay, empty and without crime for once, fifteen stories below. Unbeknownst to him, Bruce was leaning further and further over the pavement below, until he was in severe danger of falling, and would have if not for his agility. _Just a little bit further,_ the little voice in his head said, egging him on towards the edge.

A fall from this height would surely kill him; even the Batman himself couldn't survive a drop that far with nothing to protect him. But would it be so bad if the worst did happen to him? He knew Dick would take on the role of Batman in the event of Bruce dying - they had discussed it several months ago after a particularly nasty run-in with the Joker. Gotham City would be safe. And Bruce would be free from the dark thoughts that plagued his mind.

He wasn't a hero. Superman and Wonder Woman were heroes. They flew, had unimaginable strength, and border lining magical powers. Batman wasn't like that. He was just a man in a suit, with gadgets and money. Take that away and what was he?

Nothing.

And the people who'd died in his city. The people he'd LET die. Riddler, Scarecrow, Joker - they'd killed colossal numbers of people, and yet Bruce had never been able to bring himself to kill them, despite their crimes. Blindly, the city deemed him a hero, but they didn't know how many people he had failed. He created these murderers, and the blood they spilt was on his hands. With that one thought steeling his resolve, Bruce prepared to take the step that would inevitably end his life...

"Don't do it."

The Dark Knight stopped in his tracks; he had been certain that no one knew he was here, yet here was a soft, feminine voice telling him not to take that step. He listened for the time being, walking away from the edge of the building and peering into the darkness. "Who are you, and how did you know I was here?"

Bruce waited for a moment, before a figure stepped into his view. Curly, blonde hair blew gently in the wind, and sapphire eyes gazed at him from a face with creamy skin, a small nose, and full red lips. But what really caught Bruce's attention was the tight red and black suit she wore, and the mallet propped up against the edge of the roof.

"...Harley Quinn?"

"Please don't do it, Batman. Please." That was the only response she gave him, and he was struck by how different her voice was compared to her normal tone. She had lowered her pitch and dropped the grating accent she used, and her words were full of compassion.

"You can't stop me Quinn. This is none of your concern." He refused to be swayed by her usually soft and calming attitude, and snapped at her in annoyance. Harley, however, ignored his tone, and carried on speaking in that soothing voice.

"I'm not pretending to know what you've been through; I don't know you that well. But I do know that the people of Gotham need you, including the villains - you protect everyone, whether it's the public from us, or us from outsiders. You're a good man, Batman, and we both know you don't want to do this. Please, I get that you're hurting, but this won't help - think about Batgirl, Nightwing and Robin. They look up to you, and can't do their jobs without you. You're stronger than this, I know you are."

 _She's right, Bruce._ Harley's words surprised him greatly; yet, as he looked at the young woman, he couldn't quite remember why he'd been so depressed in the first place. "Why are you telling me this?" They were still enemies, after all.

"Because you shouldn't die. I might not like you, and you might spoil my plans, but this isn't right. We're stronger than suicide, you and I." At Bruce's look of utter shock, she laughed and continued. "Yeah, I've thought about it a lot. Came damn close to doing it too - stood with a gun at my head and everything. It was about eight months ago, though, and I'm better now. And I got friends to think about... I couldn't hurt Ivy that way, she's like a sister to me. That's what you have to do, think about the people you care about."

Batman said nothing in response, thinking deeply about what the jester said. He hadn't thought of it that way; how it would kill Dick - his son was strong, but losing his adoptive father would destroy him - or Barbara, his good friend and ally. And Tim wasn't much older than Bruce was when his parents were murdered. He couldn't put his youngest son in that position...

Without realising it, the Dark Knight had been stepping away from the edge of the roof, and only now became aware of where he was standing - right next to Harley. Now that he thought about it, she really was an amazing psychiatrist, even now. 'And she's right,' he thought, 'I can't do this, not to everyone I care about.'

"Thank you Harley. That was very much appreciated, and I'm sorry for what you've been through." He truly was - he didn't think anyone deserved to feel they should end their own life, having experienced that feeling himself only minutes before. Although, he had to admit, he was finding it more and more difficult to remember the reason for the misery that had plagued his mind.

Harley grinned. "Eh, no problem. Just don't expect me to be normal all the time." Ah, there was the giggly laugh and screechy voice he was used to. As the gymnast prepared to jump onto a nearby roof, she paused for a second, and said one more thing before cartwheeling away.

"For what it's worth, I think the fact that you're a human makes you a better hero." And she was gone.

Bruce smiled to himself softly, and disappeared into the night, finally able to see all the good in his life.

A/N: There we go! Another little one shot. This one is less romantic and more comfort, but I like it anyway. But let me know what you think in a review, and check out some of my other stories. (I HAVE NOT forgotten about 'Underneath the Makeup', I'm just working on a new chapter, so keep an eye out!) ~ The Dark Knight HQ xx


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